


Farewell, my youth

by YertzNilo357



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-24 23:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16185665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YertzNilo357/pseuds/YertzNilo357
Summary: Whilst Harry is musing as to the inequity and perpetual danger he has been thrust into, he receives a letter from Gringotts bank. Once again, Mr Harry James Potter is at a critical juncture. How will he cope with the extra responsibility thrust upon him?





	1. Chapter 1

The missive from Gringotts was sent via the sleek black Falcon Owl, a regal, impressive creature saved for only the most important clients.

Harry, deep in the middle of his summer break, from his true home Hogwarts, or the Burrow, dependant on the day of the week, sat in awe. He had finally realised the truth. How had Hermione, Ron and he reached the Philospher’s Stone so easily, with no injuries to him and Hermione? How had he and Ron, with some minor help from Hermione been the only ones to work out that it was a Basilisk in the pipes, when it should have been so clearly obvious, assuming Voldemort’s ability to speak Parseltongue was wildly known? Hint: it was. ‘ _Good one, Harry_ ’.

Furthermore, why had Sirius never been given the opportunity to stand trial? Surely Dumbledore had enough sway to force a hearing. Granted, he was and is technically part of the Wizengamot so theoretically shouldn’t use his influence to ‘gently suggest’ that Sirius should receive a trial, but seriously, every other fucking Pureblood did it. And most of them were literally running around torturing, murdering and other criming people but were all like “Oh no, I didn’t mean to, I was Imperiused (take the gold) and I was worried (take the gold) about the state of Wizardom (take the gold) let us kill all Mudbloods (knew you’d take the gold).

Then in Fourth year, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Pomfrey, etc. didn’t realise that Moody was Crouch? Seriously? What the hell, guys? You’re shit friends. I got stabbed in the goddamn arm and made to bleed, which hurt because you dicks failed a spot check. Also, I watched Cedric die, which was only slightly less inconvenient. At least that got me a shot with Cho.

Harry shook his head and blinked. He had once heard that having a first person rant was a sign of insanity and most likely meant his traumatic experiences were affecting or effecting his mental health. Alternatively, he was going stir crazy. It was only 10:30am, on July 12th. He really wanted to see Ron and Hermione. I wonder if those two have finally got it going on. That would be good. No more watching them pine and completely fail at actually getting together. Did they realise how ridiculously inconvenient it was to have to always be working out exactly who screwed up more, based off their arguments? Like, how unfair it was to need to determine the fundamental reason, then subsequently extrapolate and postulate, based off said discovery, as to the inherent rightness of either argument. To juxtapose the two contrasting arguments, then unilaterally infer which side would annoy him less? The effort was stupendously laborious and virtually perpetual, always moving forward and never stopping, continually inconveniencing him? What does juxtapose mean? I hope I used it right.

Once again, Harry blinked and shook his head. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was now 10:31am, on July 12th. He looked around the room. He missed his friends. Solitude made him loquacious, whatever that meant. It was at that point he noticed the owl.

\- - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - --

“Mr Potter, my name is Griphook. I am sure you don’t remember me from your first visit to this bank. I assisted in finding your vault”.

Harry smiled and nodded. “Sure, you were that goblin who showed me my vault. Your name is Griphook, right?” Griphook gasped in shock. He turned to the goblin on his right and whispered some Gobbledegook. This goblin gasped in shock then leapt from his seat and sprinted out of the room. Griphook turned back to Harry and looked at him, with the same fervour that Dobby had for socks. It was disturbing. It was this point that five more goblins entered the meeting room. Looking at Harry, they gasped in shock, and then ran out of the room. Harry sat in his chair, wanting nothing more than to work out what the hell was happening.

“Mr Griphook- _shocked gasps_ \- where the hell did they come from? Sorry, I mean, why did Gringotts send me that letter requesting I come here? Furthermore, why did that cool owl carry me here, if this was a voluntary meeting? Furthermore, how did that owl carry me? Is it a Shadow Phoenix or something? It would only weigh like four pounds, which is a fairly big for a bird…. I guess. Maybe. I don’t know, I’m not a bird research person”.

“Mr. Potter, you remembered my name. Do you realise how rarely wizards such as yourself remember the name of goblins? Your people, who look down on us? Your people, who always steal our weapons and armour? Your people, who don’t stop your spawn from sucking on their fingers then sticking it in our ears? It shows to us, the disenfranchised proletariat goblin that you aren’t a complete numpty”.

Harry slowly nodded his head. He looked around the room. Man, there were a lot of goblins really unsubtly staring at him. Why were there vents and how come there were so many? Shaking his head, Harry looked at the clock. It was 10:45am, on July 12th. My English slangexpression, that Shadow Phoenix owl falcon thing was quick and strong- how hadn’t he noticed the goblin sitting right in front of him? Man it was close. Man, it smelt gooood. Goddamn loneliness. And hormones.

\- -- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -- -

“Mr Harry James Potter, I am Rockbreaksmasher, Chief Diamond Finder, First Gold Hoarder, Initial Silver Smelter and Genuine Gem dude. I am the King of the Goblins.”

“Hello King Rockbreaksmasher, it’s an honour to meet yo”- The resounding gasp that resulted from that statement caused the walls to shake, the Earth to move, the roof to burst open, metaphorically.- “ndering exactly why you sent that letter to me? I was hoping that your Highness cou”- goblins fell from vents and seats all around the room, causing concurrent and sequential thumps- “ecause I want to go to sleep. It’s only 10:55am, still July 12th. Hopefully I can nap for 19 days. Also, why do you look so amazed?”

The Goblin King smoothed back his blonde hair, which was a toupee, and said, “Dear boy, don’t you see, that the respect you have for me, is indicative of your character and shines a light like the flash of a camera on the fact you are a truly caring wizard. It is almost discombobulating that a human of your upbringing-”

“That doesn’t rhyme and also, I was made to do chores all the time. The Dursleys were terrible. I mean, probably not full-on abusive but certainly neglectful, though I don’t have a base to compare it against. Except for Mrs Weasley, the Malfoys and Augusta Longbottom, I think”. The silence was palpable. Harry looked around the room at the goblins, some of whom were now hanging from the rafters, which, based off the goblin with the drill, had just been installed, very efficiently and quietly.

_How’d he get screws into rock_ , mused Harry. _Goblin engineering is amazing. Nope, the rafter fell. They’ve been crushed. Why is this King and the others ignoring it and still staring at me? I really don’t want to ask. Out loud_. It was now 10:56am, July the 12th.

\--- ----------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------ ---------------

The stench of the goblin corpses permeated the room. Harry, ever polite, waited for the surviving goblins to stop spontaneously gasping in shock every time he said “ _Excuse me King Rockbreaksmasher, Mr Griphook_ -“, thereby stopping him from asking the question. Even when he tried a different tact and went for the whole “ _Oi you inbred, royal cunt, I don’t care if you’re fucking King Rockbreaksmasher, ruler of the goblin scum, tell me what that useless prick Griphook_ ”- shtick, they still gasped in shock.

Granted, he had worked out that they seemed to react to him using their names, due to being told earlier, which either suggested:

\- option ONE: it was rare for wizards to do so; or  
\- option TWO: that goblins were really easily impressed.

Considering his experience with Dobby, the centaurs, werewolves, giants and the total of two hours he had listened to Professor Binns in History of Magic, which was 99% Goblin Wars, wizards really were dicks. Consequently, Process of Elimination suggested it was option one. This further fuelled Harry’s personal, strong belief that wizards and witches really were a horrible subset of humanity and had a lot to answer for. Especially for letting him get stabbed in the fucking arm.

Shaking his head to clear the musings, Harry looked up and decided to try a different tactic. Picking up the goblin sitting on his lap, who was looking right in his Avada Kedavra or _jade_ green eyes, and placing said goblin on the ground, Harry James Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Defeater of the Dark Lord said “Why’m ihere?”

“Oh, you should have asked earlier,” cried out King RBS. “We’ve wasted so much of your time. You’ve come into your magical inheritance. You are the heir to a number of lines, a variety of Names, a menagerie of nom de plums. In other words, you’re the heir to a ton of various Magical Houses, plus a few other types, like a couple of Avengers.”

“Of course I am,” muttered Harry. He looked around the room, pointedly ignoring the super cool Shadow Phoenix? eating the goblin corpses. He looked at his watch. He shook the goblin hanging on his wrist off. It was 10:59am, July 15th. No wait, it’s still a 12th.

“God fucking damn it. Also, get off my foot, man.”

\-------------------- ------------------------------- ------------------------- ---------------------- -----------

“Here we are, Mr Potter, the private auditorium from which you, the true hero of the goblins, will have your will read to you. I mean, heirdom stuff read to you. Sorry, Freudian slip. You are up against the Dark Lord.,” chortled RBS, the King. The surrounding goblins laughed along with the King. A few house elves were also hanging around.  
“Anywho, I mean, let us now read to Mr Harry James Potter his heir list. Or heirdom list, whichever is correct.”

A small goblin walked forward, after sliding off Harry’s head, and passed King RockBS a piece of paper. A very small piece of paper. A miniscule piece of paper. Harry sighed in relief. His life was crazy enough. Also, he hadn’t missed what the King said, that arsehole.

More seriously though, inheriting had seemed to be potentially a glut or smorgasbord of extra inheritances was an extreme level of responsibility. Harry was not ready for that responsibility. He wanted nothing more than to just spend an afternoon, with his friends, by the lake, talking about nothing and everything. He wanted the freedom to live his life, the freedom to mess around, to live without the fear of Voldemort. Harry desired to be Just Harry, nothing more and nothing less.

  
Hopefully, _that paper was not magically unfolding_.

 

_No, no. Why is it 12 feet long? Why is it 15 feet long? Why is it two feet wide? What? No. Please no. Stop rolling out more. WHAT THE FUCK!? HOW CAN IT BE THAT BIG?! THIS IS FUCKED! It’s like a goddamn set of cricket covers. Forty of those little goblin shits are holding it up! WHY DOES IT SAY PART ONE OF THREE!? AWWWW, THEY’RE PULLING OUT ANOTHER ONE! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT BIRD!?_

…………..oh no, it’s part one of thirteen. Au revoir, mein jeugd.

 

At least it was 11am.

 

Still July 12th, though.


	2. Chapter 2: Harry meets a new, yet familiar ......person

…………..er

………tter

…….Potter

….ames Potter

Ha….es Potte..

“Mr Potter? Mr Potter? Are you OK, o Respectful One? You seem like you’ve just had your future plans fall down and be crushed before your very eyes. You look like a man whose very essence and dreams have been irrevocably changed and altered. You look like a child who has been told they have an inoperable tumour and will die in three weeks, very painfully. You, quite simply, look absolutely shattered, bruz. What is the haps?”

Harry was transfixed. Thirteen of these things. Thirteen of them. It was horrible. It was a nightmare. It was hopeless. He felt like King Ragnar the Wise, fourteenth King of the Spanish Mountain goblins, whom, after years of brutal war, thought a truce had been reached with the Iberian Hill Wizards, the sworn foes of the _Duendes de Montana Espanoles._ Letting down his guard for but one second, he relaxed the patrols around his home city.

That night, he awoke to the screams of his people. As he looked on the flames arising from his kingdom, he felt true, profound despair. When his life was finally ended, it is said he whispered, “I fear not the Demons I am yet to meet; they hath already found me here, on Earth”.

Fucker wasn’t that wise. Should have seen the warnings, like I SHOULD HAVE. Of course a goddamn letter from Gringotts means I’m the heir to 30,000 square feet of names.

Merlin. He’s probably my great Grandad.

“Allow me to start the reading. You are the heir to the following Wizarding lines:

_The line of Merlin, the Greatest of all Mages_ (”Knew it”)

_Sir Godric Gryffindor, Lord of Godric’s Hollow_

_Lady Rowena Ravenclaw, Lady of Rowena’s Crevice_

_Sir Salazar Slytherin, Lord of Salazar’s Hedge Fund_

_Lady Helga Hufflepuff, Lady of Helga’s Bakehouse_

_Marvin the Magician, Owner of the Marvin’s menagerie_

_Marvin the Magician II, Owner of Marvin’s menagerie II_

_Marvin the Magician III, Owner of Marvin’s Menagerie III_

_Marvin the Magician IV, Owner of Marvin’s MENagerie IV_

_Marvin the Magician V, Owner of Marvin’s MeNaGeRiE V_

_Marvin the Magician VI, Owner of IV eireganem s’nivram_

_Marvin the Magician VII, lost his menagerie to Jebediah_

_Marvina the Magician VIII, Owneress of Marvina;s Womenagerie_

“Oh my apparent ancestor’s saggy left redacted, how many goddamn Marvins are there? Why are there so many of them? How are there so many of them?”

King of the goblins, King Rock Break Smasher tilted his head, flicking the super smooth and silky Gerard Way-style fringe out of his eye-line.

“Marvin is the most popular name in wizarding history. You see, what most wizards and witches do not know, is that the most famous of wizards, the Grand Sage, Merlin had a first name, which was Marvin. Marvin Merlin was his name. I see you look incredulous but he was not a one name person, like Prince or Cher. Or Voldemort. Nope, his name was Marvin Merlin. He practiced and practiced magic with such fervour because the other kids in school bullied him relentlessly, due to his stupid name. He became the most powerful magical being in Earth’s existence simply because he wanted to turn the tables and wedgie five kids at once. In the course, he discovered the Experiential Paradox and was enlightened as to the true secret of Magic”.

Enraptured by his words, the surrounding goblins and house elves nodded in concert. I slowly shook my head, amazed at how impressively unhelpful and uninformative that entire spiel had been. I could see Hermione being interested, for no other reason than the King said “Paradox”. At least it explained why witches and wizards were so petty. The Dursleys had always been terrible to me but, as I recently discovered, that was still preferable to getting attacked every June, getting yelled at by that vampiric, greasy, big-nosed, rubber necked, weirdly beautiful, dick hole Snape, dealing with that little weaselly, slimy, overtly blonde, weirdly beautiful, shit head Malfoy and watching people literally die.

Of course, let’s not forget, that I have to deal with Goddamn inheritances now. Harry, shifting back to third person, looked at the roof as the King listed off the 115th variation on Marvin. _‘I didn’t realise wizards had podiatrists. At least they’ve expanded outside of menageries,’_ he thought, ruminating. He let the words of the King roll over him, slowly nodding and occasionally contributing phrases, such as “Yes”, “OK”, “I see”, “For fucks sake”, “uuuuuuuggggggggghhhhhhhhh”, “aaaaawwwwww”, “I wish I could see, the beautiful stars twinkling, not this fucking roof” and “After careful consideration, did you know that my next door neighbours are this pair of really smoking hot blonde women, whose shower room is directly next to mine. And they never shower with the curtains closed so I get a free show. Which I don’t take advantage of, because I’m not a creep. See, I’m this good a person and you bastards are so happily screwing me over. C’mon. I literally stick my head under the pillow”.

“That is what any reasonable, respectable human being would do. Don’t act like it makes you special. Now quit your bitching, we’ve still got another 297 Marvins to get through.”

“True. What Marvin are we up to?”

“10,945”

“How long have we been here?”

“About a day and half.”

“What’s the time and date?”

“11.47pm, July 13th.”

“Oh. Neat. Get back to reading. I’m not listening to what you’re saying obviously, because I’m not going to remember most of it, obviously. It’s pretty obvious, I’d imagine.”

“Oh yeah, you’ve spent most of the last 18 hours staring at the wall like a stoned midget looking at a tiger. Very attentively. Because that would be the smart thing to do, in that scenario, I guess.”

Content, you nod. You think to yourself ‘ _How has my life come to this, listening, hearing and dealing with this trash? Probably reading and having to say to yourself “Oh man, what the heck? Seriously? What a waste of time? I could be sleeping or eating or beating it. Instead, I’m stuck in this cycle of asking myself “”Why am I doing this?”’ and what is the answer?” Man, I could use a nap’._ You shake your head in disbelief and Harry nodded then blinked. I looked around, confused and unsure what exactly was happening, you feel as if something is wrong.

Were they going crazy, were they not sure what I needed to do? One knew that I was not what you need, but instead what Harry thought, _‘I can’t pick a tense. Oh good, this is horrible. I’m sooooooooo bored. Dude, what the nut cheese. I can’t even keep a character. My essence is disintegrating, devolving, being stripped down. I am naught but a puppet, unsure as to how I shall be moved by the hands of mine own master. For what is a man to do, when he is controlled and pulled and pushed and prodded, forced never ending to follow a path set for him and one seemingly inalterable? How can I, slave to a greater power, servant to a greater thinker, pawn of a greater intelligence, change my future and walk my own path? What has been set for me is immutable, unyielding, unchanging and eternal’._

“The good news Mr Potter, now that you’ve finished your year eight edge lord 5deep3you, poorly worded, nonsensical monologue (yes you were talking out loud, creep) is that we have finished with the list of Ancient Wizarding families. It really was matter of getting the Marvins out of the way. Now we can move onto the more modern wizarding families and which of their daughters you are marrying and subsequently breeding with. Yeah, that got your attention, dirty perve. Wipe that blood nose, you filth. Yeah, you scum, answer- oh God, I think he’s haemorrhaging. QUICK, GET THE DOCTOR! I OVER EMBARRASSED HIM! I FORGOT HE WAS AN EMOTIONALLY STUNTED VIRGIN”.

As Harry slowly started to lose the taste of the blood pooling at the back of his throat, he thought, _“It Can Only Happen To Harry!!!!! Fuck it, at least they can’t tease me about the monologue.”_

Don’t worry, speaketh Death. I will.

Dweeb.


	3. the goblin doctors saved Harry. The haemorrhage wasn’t too bad in the end

Chapter the third: the goblin doctors saved Harry. The haemorrhage wasn’t too bad in the end.

“Don’t worry Mr Potter, our goblin doctors saved you after your little scare with the haemorrhage. It wasn’t too bad in the end,” said Bone Splitter; Then Re-setter, doctor extraordinaire. “Due to the wonders of magic, you survived. I know you feel embarrassed, due to that monologue and probably still horny, based off the state of your trousers. Yep, you’re tented. Don’t be shy, I’m a doctor, not a priest.”

Harry, unsure whether to laugh, scream, cry or AK his own ass (YO, WEST SIDE BOI) slowly nodded. “That joke is a tad inappropriate, I feel. Um, can I go? Like, I just really feel like I could go home and sleep.”

“Mr Potter, you’re like a sea sponge.”

“……how so?”

“YOU’RE SQUISHY, BRAINLESS AND SOFT AS HELL!! YOU POROUS BITCH!! YOU LITTLE GIIIIIRRRRRRLLLLLL!! Yeah, cop that, you little girl!” Random DudeBro Goblin One pumped his fist, chest bumped R DB G Two, then ran off, most likely to tell all his bros about his sick “GIIIIIRRRRRRLLLLLL!!” burn.

“Please ignore him, Mr Potter. He’s a moron. I meant a sea sponge in regards to their regenerative abilities. From what I can determine, you have minimal neurological damage, minimal physical damage and your lack of spine and central nervous system is fascinating. You seem to have made a full recovery.”

…….

‘’’’’’’’

,,,,,,,,,

;;;;;;;;;;;

“What do you mean lack of spine?”

“You have no spine.”

“What.”

“I couldn’t find one. I checked both legs, your thorax, your squerglerwitz. I couldn’t see a spine.”

“Did you look at my back?”

“Why would I look there?”

“It’s where the spine is. On humans”

“Oh, really. I usually only work on goblins. Our spine is located in the cranklesharx.”

“So you actually have no clue about human biology, you are making shit up and the reason I smell toast burning is because I’m having a stroke.”

“Yes.”

“See you when I come to.”

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Floating through the abyssal plain,_

_The man must search and look_

_With his heart,_

_To find his way._

Harry awoke to a voice. ‘Twas the King, once again. He was reading through another of the inheritance lists. “-House Lannister of Casterly Rock; House Stark of Winterfell; House Baratheon of Storms End; House Blackwater of Kings Landing. Finally, you are also Heir to Hot Pie of Houses Baker and CandleStickMaker, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. Now we’ve covered Westeros, Essos, Sothyros and Northyros.”

“You do realise that I was in a coma, man. I didn’t hear any of that.”

“Ah, no worries. For magical inheritances, generally speaking, the inheritor only needs to have the list read while they’re in the room, regardless of if they’re conscious or not. The magic still activates the inheritance….magic. Acknowledgement? Something or other.”

“Mate, you are playing this so Goddamn loosely, it makes me sick. Like, at least try to be professional. Also, what happens if the inheritor isn’t interested but gets knocked out, tied up and forced to listen to the reading? Do they still have to accept the inheritances?”

“Yes. Magic is indiscriminate, in the end. It cares not for the whims and desires of Man; it simply is.”

A profound silence lasted for a split second before Harry said, “Why the fuck did I accept that letter? Goddamn Shadow Phoenix thing. It’s so cool.”

“It is cool. Like, people always fall for it. They just want to touch it, like a button that says ‘Don’t Push this Button’.”

Nodding, Harry said, “Yeah that makes a lot of sense. I view that as a challenge. Don’t tell me what to do, Warning. Then you get blown or in this case, carried to Gringotts.”

“Technically, kidnapped and then held hostage.”

“I was being diplomatic, Your Highness.”

Putting down his gilded bong, the King of the Goblins slowly shook his head, matted hippy hair swinging around him. “wat dude, wat r u saein. im gerd.”

“Dude, you are trolling me so fucking hard right now,”

“Yep. Anyway, let us end this discussion for the moment. Next time we come back, it’ll just be a pretty long list of all the magical inheritances. Got sidetracked by that doctor stuff and forgot to read out the Wizarding ones so just threw in the Westeros crap to pad out the conversation until Harry came to. It happens.”

“You can say “you came to”. I’m right here.”

“Fuck off, you speccy, four eyed perjorative.”


	4. it's a list, all italicised, generally speaking

Fourth chapter: it’s a list, all italicised, except when it isn’t.

 

**_The Houses of the Sacred Twenty Eight: Your Heirhoods_ **

 

_House Abbott of Northumberland, matrilineal; betrothed is Hannah Abbott, with bountiful breasts_

 

_House Avery of Berwick, patrilineal; betrothed is not applicable, ain’t no chicks_

 

_House Black of Grimmauld, both lines; they are entwined_

 

_House Bulstrode of Leicester; betrothed is Millicent, she fugly_

 

_House Bourke of Berk St, patrilineal; betrothed inapplicable, no girls present_

 

_House Carrow of Ipswich, both lines; betrothed is both twins; twincest is wincest_

 

_House Crouch of Londonderry, EXTINCT; they dead, though you knew that_

 

_House Fawley of Pottermore, who cares; betrothed not sure, haven’t played the mobile game_

_House Flint of Lint, matrilineal; betrothed is Marcus Flint, can breed via mitosis_

 

_House Gaunt of Little Hangleton,…..like, I just don’t know, man. It’s tangled to the shit; betrothed is Tom Riddle, who has no nose, how does he smell, terrible, lol_

 

_House Greengrass of Piccadilly, patrilineal; betrothed is Daphne Greengrass and Astoria Greengrass, two for one deal. Also, that Daphne is so hot for a 15 year old, it’s almost disturbing. I’d teach her a thing or two_

 

_House Lestrange of Azkaban, again, just not sure; betrothed is Delphi Riddle, secret daughter of Voldemort and Bellatrix. I know, what a pleasant, well-thought out twist_

 

_House Longbottom of York, patrilineal; betrothed is Neville Longbottom, change his name to Loosebottom, high five_

 

(“You’re adding this shit on purpose, right?”  “Nope, it’s all written down on the list.”)

 

_House McMillan of Brighton, patrilineal; no chicks, so no betrothal. Two men can’t have babies naturally, it’s impossible_

 

_House Malfoy of Malfoy Manor, patrilineal; betrothed is Draco Malfoy, because male on male love is the most natural thing in the world. Also, he is ovulating, dude style_

 

_House Nott of Notting Hill, both-u-lineal; betrothed is NO ONE, see the McMillan entry_

 

_House Ollivander of Ollivanders, wand based; they like wands, so don’t get your hopes up_

 

_House Parkinson of the Parking Bay, patrilineal; betrothed is Pansy Parkinson, the pug faced gargoyle with a heart of pyrite_

 

_House Prewett of Berkshire, matrilineal, betrothed is Molly Weasley, now yo Mommy figure goings to call you Daddy_

 

_House Rosier of Someplace, they dead; all killed, dead, shuffled off, resting in peace_

 

_House Rowle on the Prowl, nomadic; no clue, I can’t remember any facts about them_

 

_House Selwyn of Tarth, thapphireth bathsed; no betrothed, though I hope you appreciate the ASOIAF reference_

 

_House Shacklebolt of the Library, patrilineal; all cool, us goblins support miscegenation; we aren’t NEO-Nazis_

 

(“Again, completely unnecessary and relatively offensive. Also, please don’t wink and smirk when you say NEO. Implying you’re Nazis is not funny or cool. Stop wearing that Confederate flag as a cape.”)

 

_House Shafiq of All Over the Place, they really the BOMB; yeah, you can’t stop me from making un-PC, hard core jokes, punk_

 

_House Slughorn of Couch._

 

_House Travers._

 

_House Yax- can’t be bothered, they’re unimportant_

 

_House Weasley of Ottery St Catchpole, patrilineal; betrothed is_ Ginny Weasley, let me cut the crap, man. She’s a whore. Straight up. Seriously, like, she’s evil. I know she’s only fourteen, wait maybe thirteen, doesn’t matter. She’s a Weaselslut. Untrustworthy. Her crush on you is indicative of a person who wants to literally mind control you, have you impregnate her, then kill your true love but fail spectacularly because she’s crap at magic. She’s just terrible. Manipulative bitch, Also, she’s flat. Sure it could be because she’s only fourteen or thirteen, but it’s mainly because she is so physically unattractive, that her lack of breasts properly demonstrates this fact. Women should be busty, regardless of age. And don’t you forget, she has had a boyfriend and they’ve held hands and maybe kissed each other. She’s herpes ridden. She isn’t Harmonious, man. Just a shit person all around.

(“Sure, dude. Yep. Good to know you’re looking out for me, brrooo. Uggh, yuck.”)

 

**_Now we refer to other Wizarding Families_ **

 

_House Bones dat Moans; betrothed Susan Bones, also breastacularly bountiful_

 

_House Chang of Wang; betrothed is Cho, a traditional Japanese bri- Vietnemese- ….Thai- no…. OH CHINESE BRIDE. Yes, saved that_

 

_I can’t be bothered searching up the other names cos this is getting tedious so just time skip, OK Harry. Ignore the baseball bat._

 

(“What baseball ---KERSMACKEDINTHEBACKOFTHEHEADWITHABASEBALLBAT,HARD.

CONCUSSIONCAUSINGSMACKAROONIE. “Oh shit, he’s haemorrhaging again.”)

 

\-------------------------------------777777777777777777555555555555……………………..

_Flights of fancy,_

_Fish of sand,_

_His name is Mancy_

_He’ll lend a hand._

You’ve come to.

_House Zabini of Zambozi, undetermined; betrothed is either male or female Blaise Zabini, depending on whether it’s pre- or post- HBP_

(“Waz HBP” slurred the slightly brain damaged Potter. “It’s meta. Ignore it. You look too curious. Guitar him.” “Wh-“)

KERSLAMMEDINTHEHEADWITHAGUITARTHAT’SSOROCKNROLLYEAHBOY,

ACIDTRIP.

_Thank you for listening to this reading of the inheritance list. The opinions expressed in this list are “not” the genuine views of the author, hahahaha._

 

Griphook looked up at his King and said, “Glug glug glu-eeerghhh”

“Good boy,” whispered the King.


	5. It isn’t a blowjob and it wasn’t that funny. Soz

“Deep throat that chicken, Hooky boy. Swallow that poultry whole, like a boa constrictor sucking down a dirty caiman. Anaconda sucking down a dirty caiman. Yeah, do it, you odd duck,” sensuously and very weirdly whispered King RockBreakSmasher(?).

Harry very slowly asked himself why he selected just then to wake up from his guitar induced coma.

 _“Why did I pick just then to wake myself up from my guitar induced coma?”_ Harry asked himself, redundantly, though still slightly altered i.e., in first person.

Griphook was kneeling with his head back, tilted at around an 84 degree angle. The chicken was around 5 pounds, which is probably pretty big for a chicken. It had a diameter of around 25 inches, with an Abbott like breast. Griphook, who had swallowed half the chicken, seemed to have reached an impasse, to the extent that swallowing a chicken whole qualifies as an impasse. It was stuck, based off Griphook's flared nostrils and his face slowly turning red.

“Should I even ask?” asked Harry.

“If you need to,” answered the King.

“Is that a chicken?” queried Harry.

“Yes, it is,” replied the King.

“Is that Griphook?” questioned Harry, ignoring the goblins who spontaneously combusted in shock.

“I believe so,” responded the King.

“hmmmm. Why is he swallowing a chicken?” inquired Harry, tentatively.

“I don’t have Viagra,” retorted the King. “Though more seriously, he lost a bet.”

“What bet?” challenged Harry.

“Who could swallow a chicken whole,” shrugged the King.

“I hate you so fucking much, you prick. Finish reading the fucking inheritance list. Also Griphook- STOP GASPING IN SHOCK YOU FUCKERS- is purple and weakly kicking the ground. Now he’s not kicking the ground. And, yep, he is DEAD. DO I HAVE TO SEE EVERYONE DIE!? DAMN IT!!!,” screamed Harry, two exclamation marks away from a complete mental breakdown.

“I’d say so,” said the King, brushing his sideburns across the top of his head. “You’re very unlucky.”

………….

………….

……………

………………………

…………………………………………………………….

 

“ _ **YOU DON'T SAY!!!!!**_?”

 

“Oh, but I do say.”

…………

“Please, for the love of all that’s holy, let me go or finish reading.”

“I finished the list. Before, when you seemed to wait interminably long to yell ‘YOU DON’T SAY’, it was like two weeks, man. It’s August 1st. You turned 16 man, congratulations.”

“……so I can go to the Burrow?” Harry asked, with a small voice, demonstrating his hopefulness.

“No. You can’t. It was destroyed by Voldemort and the Death Eaters. All the Weasleys, Grangers, the Order, Dobby, umm…. Hedwig, ahh, the Longbottoms and Lovegoods, they dead. Dead as hell. AK’d to the nines, homes. And Crucio’d. Then defiled, brutally, because Death Eaters are eeevvilll criminals.”

 

“Obviously, not very smart, because it’s hard to torture a corpse, you fucking idiot,” snapped Harry. “You’re clearly screwing with me again.”

“…no I’m not. Like it was horrible. They were all like “Oh no, I’ve been AK’d, I’m dead yo. This Crucio curse is really painful, like a stubbed toe times a billion toes!! WHERE’S HARRY!? HE SHOULD HAVE SAVED US!! HE SHOULD FEEL REALLY GUILTY!! Stop looking at me like I’m a moron, dude. YOU’RE FAMILY AND FRIENDS ARE DEAD!”

The King looked at Harry. Harry raised an eyebrow. The King shifted his eyes side to side. Harry crossed his arms. The King whistled and slapped his thighs. Harry uncrossed his arms, and then rested his chin on his palm, crossing his legs.

The King sighed. “You see, you’re really ruining my fun man. It’s a downer. Dude, stop ruining it. You Debbie Downer. Griphook is dead, so I can’t make him swallow things anymore, a bunch of the other goblins got crushed, the Black Owl is bloated on goblin corpses and now won’t leave his room and the House Elves have taken control of Gringott’s gold and are now an officially emancipated species with a seat on the Wizengamot. They’ve already removed 13 Dark-affiliated families from their seats. The SERVANT SEES EVERYTHING! I’m having a really rough time and I just want you to feel nothing but pure horror and existential pain at the fact your family/friends are dead, even though I am lying to the shit. YOU’RE A BULLY, HARRY! YEAH, THAT QUOTES BEEN TURNED ON YOU.”

“Let me sign the inheritance shit and I’ll go, OK. I don’t give a crap about your problems.”

“Fine sign it! You dick! It’s optional to accept this anyway. The aforementioned magic doesn’t specifically bind you to it, it merely activates the inheritance or in this case, inheritances. Subsequently, it can be accepted or rejected. It like an official email that says “You qualify for so and so, would you like so and so?” except not that scammy. You OK? Harry? Mate, you OK?”

“Um,” said the doctor BoneSplitter; Then ReSetter, “his brains have boiled out his ears. Yeah, he’s actually dead this time.”


	6. The Epilogue, finally

"So, I sorta killed the Boy Who Lived. Hope for Wizarding kind. Beloved of Grand Minister Dobby. Protege of the Grand Sockmeister Dumbledore. This looks like the Goblin Kingdom has assassinated the Boy Who Lived, right?"

"Yes, it does."

"We've effectively declared war on the Wizards, haven't we?"

"Not purposefully, but in practice and in actual reality, yes, we have."

"Especially considering this was a bet I had with Griphook pertaining to making said Boy Who Lived lose all hope, via making up a ridiculous list, when he's actually only the Potter House inheritor."

"Yup."

"We're so fucked."

"Yeah, we screwed the Cerberus on this one."

"Please don't lazily modify Muggle sayings to be more 'magical'."

"You're the Grand Mugwump."

The King slowly leaned back. He looked at the room. Mountains of goblin corpses surrounded him, primarily because that cool Shadow Phoenix was actually a miniature Hungarian Horntail that spontaneously grew. He had just wanted to bore someone (Harry) with a list, that was completely pointless. Like, it was so unnecessary. Nowhere near as enjoyable as first thought when initially conceived. Hats off to people who can write a list and not want to punch themselves in the dick or vagina.

"Listen, we're the last two goblins. The rest are dead. Dead as shit. There is only one thing we can do."

 

"'Weekend at Bernies' it?"

"Yep. It's so crazy, it just might work."

........

.......

"We've never watched that movie. What happens?'

"They pretend a dead dudes alive. Well, let us get to it. This should be.... something."

 


End file.
